Chapter Eighteen: I Have No Idea Who Qian Ma Zi Is!

“Hm?” Yang Meng looked in surprise at the people speaking behind him. He didn’t know them at all. “Hey, who are you? Do we know each other?”

In fact, these men were the motorcycle dealers selling used bikes at the Zhao Village market. Today, they felt they were about to lose their minds.

Normally, business here was pretty good—otherwise, so many dealers wouldn’t gather to sell—but today, things were far from ideal.

Why? The buyers had noticed that a ‘master’ had arrived and were all trailing behind Yang Meng to hear his opinions. Yang Meng, with his helpful nature—or perhaps his desire to show off—was always ready to answer their questions.

Why do people come here to buy used motorcycles? To find bargains and get a good deal. But as the saying goes, “buyers aren’t as shrewd as sellers.” Those bikes priced below market value were either re-registered vehicles or accident bikes—whoever bought them would fall into a trap.

This seriously affected the dealers’ business. Blocking someone’s income is like killing their parents; the dealers now hated Yang Meng to the bone!

A buzz-cut with a thick gold chain around his neck stepped out from the crowd. “Hey, pal, are you here to stir up trouble?”

Yang Meng, completely puzzled, pointed to his nose. “Are you talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb!” The buzz-cut snorted coldly. “Ask around—who doesn’t know me, Zheng Da-Pao, at the Zhao Village used motorcycle market? I don’t tolerate any nonsense!”

Yang Meng laughed. “Listen to yourself—who can tolerate sand in their eyes except the blind?”

The onlookers burst out laughing at Yang Meng’s words.

Zheng Da-Pao was momentarily stumped, then pointed at Yang Meng. “Hey, you’re joking with me? There aren’t many who dare disrespect Zheng Da-Pao in Zhao Village! Are you sent by Qian Ma-Zi to cause trouble? Go back and tell him—I’ll deal with him for life! Stop playing these petty tricks here!”

Yang Meng was still confused. “Qian Ma-Zi, Li Ma-Zi? I don’t even know them! I’m just here to buy a bike!”

“Buy a bike?” Zheng Da-Pao snorted. “Do you think I’m three years old? I’ve seen plenty of buyers—none like you. Hundreds of bikes here, you’ve looked at them all, pointed out faults, but haven’t chosen one!”

Yang Meng lit a cigarette. “Just haven’t found the right one yet. Is this how you do business? Are you forcing me to buy?”

Zheng Da-Pao got angry. “So many good bikes and you say none suit you? Here, how about this BMW R1200GS ADV? The pinnacle of off-road bikes worldwide!”

Yang Meng glanced at the bike. This wasn’t just boasting. The BMW R1200GS and Honda CRF 1000 ADV were both top-tier off-road motorcycles, shining at the Dakar Rally. But in the country, the BMW R1200GS ADV was much more common than the Honda CRF 1000 ADV. It wasn’t about patriotism or rejecting Japanese products—their prices were nearly identical. Given the choice, why not pick BMW?

Yang Meng shook his head. “It’s a great bike, but the seat is too high. Riding it in the city is exhausting.”

That’s the common issue with off-road bikes: the BMW R1200GS’s seat is so high that unless your legs are over a meter twenty, you can’t touch the ground with both feet. With so many traffic lights in the city, not being able to stabilize the bike at stops is torture.

“How about this Ducati ‘Diavel’?” Zheng Da-Pao pointed to another bike.

Yang Meng sighed. “The engine number has been re-stamped. This is a re-registered bike, isn’t it?”

Zheng Da-Pao’s expression darkened, then pointed to another motorcycle. “This Harley ‘Softail Commander’ must be good, right?”

Yang Meng shook his head again. “Of course not. The ‘Softail Commander’ is supposed to have a Twin Cam 103BTM air-cooled engine, but this one’s fitted with a V-type water-cooled engine. The modification is so rough—it’s just a money pit.”

Zheng Da-Pao’s face turned even uglier. “Kid, where did Qian Ma-Zi find you? He’s really planning to break ties now, isn’t he?”

“Are you done?” Yang Meng said impatiently. “For the last time: I don’t know Qian Ma-Zi! I’m just here to buy a bike. If I’m spending money, I want a bike I’m satisfied with. I’m not about to pay for some re-registered or patched-up wreck!”

“Enough with your act! You’re here to cause trouble!” Zheng Da-Pao was convinced Yang Meng was here to disrupt.

Now, the onlookers couldn’t stand it anymore. “What trouble? If your bikes have issues, why can’t people point them out?”

“That’s right. If it weren’t for this young man today, I would have bought that scooter earlier. You crooks, selling bikes with burnt-out cylinders?”

“No wonder the bike I bought last time keeps breaking down. Turns out it was from you lot!”

“You say he’s causing trouble? Call the police then! Let them handle it!”

“Don’t just call the police. Does 12315 handle this? Call them too!”

“The young man knows his bikes, so what? Do you want him to buy a defective one? Even checking is a problem now?”

The crowd grew larger, and Zheng Da-Pao’s face grew darker and darker. He took a deep breath and shouted at the onlookers, “Shut up, all of you! Don’t think I’m easy to bully just because I’m polite!”

He waved his hand, and several of his men closed in, glaring fiercely at the crowd.

Seeing Zheng Da-Pao turn hostile, everyone fell silent, afraid to say anything that might bring trouble.

Zheng Da-Pao was pleased with their reaction. He smirked at Yang Meng. “I don’t care if you’re here to buy or to stir up trouble. We won’t do business with you!”

Yang Meng frowned. “What do you mean? Not doing business at all?”

Zheng Da-Pao remained silent, but a henchman stepped forward. “Here at the Zhao Village market, as long as Brother Pao says the word, no one will sell you a bike! Get lost, kid!”

Yang Meng’s brows knitted tighter. “Watch your mouth! Is that how you talk?”

The henchman straightened up, showing a vicious expression. “Damn, calling you names is the least I’ll do. If you don’t leave, I’ll beat you up—believe it?”

“I don’t,” Yang Meng replied with a cold smile. “You won’t sell me a bike? No problem!” He raised his voice. “Friends who came to buy bikes today, if you’re unsure about any bike or suspect something’s wrong, just come ask me! I guarantee you won’t get cheated!”

“Hey, kid, you really don’t care about Brother Pao, do you?” One of Zheng Da-Pao’s men pulled out an expandable baton and snapped it open with a loud crack, intimidating everyone. “Looks like you need a lesson!”

For these henchmen, this was the perfect chance to impress Zheng Da-Pao. Another pulled out a baton. “Stop wasting words—let’s deal with him!”

With that, he rushed at Yang Meng! The others hesitated for a moment, then quickly followed suit. The ones at the back regretted missing their chance. How do henchmen rise in rank? By making themselves useful to the boss. Yet again, someone else took the lead.

When there are many against one, it’s no surprise he’s first to charge.

The lead henchman’s name was Wu Lian’an. He wasn’t really cut out for the gangster life—timid by nature, often bullied. By chance, he became Zheng Da-Pao’s underling.

Life’s irony: those who were bullied can be the most ruthless when they bully others. Since joining Zheng Da-Pao, Wu Lian’an became one of the boss’s trusted tough men, always the first to act in a pinch.

Zheng Da-Pao valued him for that, letting him enjoy the good life. But honestly, if Wu Lian’an were truly brave, he wouldn’t have been bullied for years. He understood the game: with so many henchmen, who would dare fight back? Bullying people was safe, especially when outnumbering them.

But if the opponent had numbers, he’d be the first to back down.

Now, Yang Meng was alone, while they were in a group—another chance to bully, and Wu Lian’an was first to charge.

Wu Lian’an swung his baton hard at Yang Meng’s shoulder. Why not hit somewhere else? Because if you hit the head and something happens, you’re in trouble. The shoulder is the safest target.

He already pictured Yang Meng screaming in pain after the blow. Brother Pao would surely reward his bravery!

Unfortunately, he failed to calculate one thing: Yang Meng was no ordinary victim. Who was he? The Great Emperor of the East Mountain!

After last night’s dream training, he’d gained a deeper understanding of the Emperor’s legacy, including the martial wisdom of Lord Huang Feihu! Huang Feihu’s martial arts were forged in war—if he couldn’t handle a few petty thugs, it would be a disgrace.

Wu Lian’an’s expected cries of pain never came. Instead, a shadow flashed before his eyes—Yang Meng’s fist struck him square in the face. Before Wu Lian’an could even scream, Yang Meng kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying back just as quickly as he had charged forward.

The other henchmen, who had followed, came to a sudden halt, staring blankly at Yang Meng.

Yang Meng beckoned to them. “Come on, all of you at once.”